His Other Life

Chapter 39

THIRTY-NINE

ISLA

The night of the crash

“Anything else I can get you?” The waitress offered the practiced smile of someone whose late shift was coming to an end. It’s been a pleasure to serve you , it said, but please get out of here now.

“I think that should do it,” Isla said. She glanced at her husband across the table from her, but he didn’t look up. His gaze was lodged on his hand, which was resting against the base of his empty wine glass. “Jonah?”

“Huh?” He raised his chin. “Yeah, yeah. We’re good.”

The waitress produced the folder with their check. “Whenever you’re ready.”

As she left, Jonah sighed from someplace deep within and sat back in his seat.

“You okay?” Isla asked for the umpteenth time that night.

He’d gone to the bathroom several times during their meal, taking forever to return, but, “I’m fine,” was the only response she’d received. She’d assumed this getaway would be different than the past few months of halting communication between them. They were here to celebrate after all—both their anniversary and their renewed commitment to each other and their future. They’d start a family, and she felt certain that with the weight of quarantine lifting, the two of them would get back to the ease that had been between them before. Their situation was hardly unique. She knew so many others who’d felt the toll of the pandemic on their relationships. Humans weren’t made for long periods of virtual isolation.

Besides, Jonah had been eager for this trip, going out of his way to plan and book it. It was true he’d been unusually pensive on the drive down yesterday, but she’d chalked that up to him planning some sort of surprise, so she hadn’t asked. And he’d seemed fine earlier today, just not tonight.

“I actually need some fresh air,” Jonah said, pushing his chair back. “Sorry. Can you do the, um…” He gestured haphazardly toward the check and huffed out another breath.

“Sure.”

“Thanks.”

She watched him make his way through the restaurant, his hands skirting the backs of chairs as if he needed them to guide him out. Was he drunk? Isla’s eyes returned to his empty wine glass. She could have sworn he’d only had one.

After she paid, she shrugged on her coat and followed his footsteps outside. The cool air engulfed her as she opened the door to the dark evening, a shiver skirting up her spine. Despite a few bunches of optimistic daffodils in the flowerbeds around the hotel, spring was still far away.

Jonah stood behind their car, digging through his pockets. “God, I’m such a screw-up,” he said when he spotted her. “I’ve lost the damn keys.”

Yes, he was definitely drunk, judging by how he slurred his Ss. How the hell had he managed that?

“I have the keys,” Isla said, reaching into her purse. “You gave them to me like you always do, remember?”

“Oh.” His head bobbed slightly.

Correction: He was wasted. She told him as much.

“I only had a few,” he said as she unlocked the car. “I needed… something.”

“So you snuck off to the bar?”

When he didn’t move, she walked past him and opened the passenger door. No way was he driving tonight.

He followed, but before he got in, he turned around, his back to the opening. “You’re mad.” The night cast deep shadows below his brow.

Isla resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “I’m confused. It’s not the same thing. Can you get in please?”

He looked like he was about to object, but then he folded himself backward into a seated position.

“We can talk about it tomorrow,” Isla said, squatting to help him lift his legs into the car. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

She closed the door but didn’t immediately move. Her hand rested against the chilled metal as the situation sank in. Why hadn’t he just ordered drinks at the table? Why pretend to need the restroom? And why drink so much in the first place? That wasn’t like Jonah at all. She’d have to get to the bottom of this in the morning when he’d slept it off.

Isla got in and buckled, but before she turned the key in the ignition, she looked over at her husband’s slack form. His head was tilted back and his eyes closed, but his colorless lips were moving, mumbling something she couldn’t quite make out. Her eyes landed on a tangle of his hair that stood straight up. Her impulse was to smooth it down, but he was somewhere else in that moment. What if she reached out and couldn’t find him?

She swallowed against the tightness in her throat and started the car, then she backed out of the parking space.

As she started driving, Jonah stopped mumbling, but Isla’s mind filled the silence with convoluted chatter. She kept replaying the day, asking herself what had caused the shift in Jonah. They’d had a lovely afternoon browsing stores and whiling away hours at a local coffee shop. He’d come up behind her as she’d changed her earrings in the mirror earlier this evening, his soft lips against her neck making promises for how the night would go. And then they’d arrived at the restaurant…

She’d turned the events every which way in her mind several times when it dawned on her that it was taking longer to reach the part of the town where their hotel was located than it should have.

“Great,” she muttered, realizing she must have made a wrong turn somewhere. She hadn’t been paying attention and now Bend was disappearing in the rearview mirror. She’d have to find a place to turn around.

“Isla?”

Isla startled. She’d thought Jonah was asleep. “Yeah?” She glanced at him but couldn’t make out much more than the glint of his eyes in the light from the dashboard.

“You know I love you, right?”

Isla blinked at the compact darkness ahead of them. What kind of question was that? “Of course.” She took her hand off the wheel and placed it on his leg. “I love you too.”

He made a small noise, a mix between a gasp and a groan, that made her look at him again, and when she did, he covered her hand with his.

“I’ve had an affair,” he blurted, his voice disproportionately loud in the small space.

She knew at once he was telling the truth; could feel the impact on her heart as the words first sucked the air out of her then engulfed her like a fiery backdraft that shoved her into the backrest.

Her grip around the wheel loosened, and her arms went slack as the car sped on. Her husband—her person —had cheated on her. Then a moment of clarity: There would be no baby.

“Isla, watch it!” Jonah yelled.

Her head jerked up to see them careening left just as Jonah grabbed the steering wheel to correct the swerve.

We’re still driving , she thought in surprise. The world hadn’t stopped with Jonah’s confession. How odd.

As she felt the hard plastic of the wheel spin against her palm, her next thought was that he’d yanked it too hard. And that the trees shouldn’t be right in front of them.

After that, a brief stomach drop before any other thought was overwhelmed by chaos assaulting her every sense. The world screamed against her eardrums as the car compacted against the trunks. Acrid fumes, copper on her tongue, engulfing pain.

Then darkness.